


In the high mountains

by Lyras



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-01
Updated: 2010-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyras/pseuds/Lyras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She never left him; not really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the high mountains

**Author's Note:**

> This is my attempt to make sense of things post-Daybreak. I needed to get it out of my system.

She never left him; not really.

Oh, she disappeared, sure. But she came to him in the nights and warmed him through the winters like no fire could. She came to him as he slept with spear in hand in the lion-ridden mountain caves, and she placed her hand over his and kissed him and wrapped herself around him like an angel.

He woke with her name on his lips, and didn't turn his head for too long because he knew that when he did he'd lose her.

But he didn't. Night after night, she was there; night after night his lips recalled her touch and her weight pressed him into whatever ground his current bed comprised. When he awoke, when he remembered, he opened his eyes - but as long as he didn't look around, they could watch the dawn roll over the land together.

His country. His canvas, to shape and love and nurture, in memory of her.

There was no guilt any longer. Once upon a time, he'd fallen for his brother's fiancée, and his self-disgust had almost overpowered him. Once, he'd betrayed his wife - perhaps by marrying her, even - and he'd never forgiven himself for his selfishness. Once, he'd hated Kara for throwing away their happiness because she was too frakking afraid to put their love on the line.

The guilt, the disgust, the hatred - they were all gone now, along with the old man, the old lady and everything else. All that remained were his memories and her - the echo of her laughter as he woke, a flash of her grin in the corner of his vision, that jump of his heart that meant she was about to push him too far. Again.

She was with him when he fought the lions. She was with him when he fell, and her joyous shouts echoed his every victory.

She was with him when he searched for, but did not find, his father.

In the end, her laughter came whispering on the autumn winds through the valley where he rested. When he heard the rain, he crawled to the entrance of his tent and watched it shattering the darkness: cool, alive, droplets refreshing his face as he drew breath from shrinking, bubbling lungs.

"Kara," he mumbled and heard his name whispered in return. She enveloped him then: soft and fierce all at once, the way they'd always been together, and he smiled into her mouth. They didn't need to say anything else. They had never needed to say anything else.

She'd never left him; not really. And as his breath ran out, she took his hand and led him home.


End file.
